


owls

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Dates, M/M, Owls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key. </p><p>How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	owls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Obliviousham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obliviousham/gifts).



> please someone stop me
> 
> this fic is dedicated n for my pal obliviousham, who sucked me into this ship and i am trapped with her here. i would complain, but i love it. thanks friend!

The bell for lunch rings, and Akaashi gives the slightest sigh. The day has so far been uneventful, though long, and he spent half of English lessons twirling his pen and planning volleyball plays as he had already learned the vocabulary on his own the previous week. 

Of course, the repetitive nature of his lessons _usually_ get interrupted around now. 

He manages to get out his lunch, and, to his shock, open it, before the door slams open (an impressive feat on a sliding door, though it's one Akaashi is used to) and a large figure sucks the air out of the room to shout.

"AKAASHIIIIII!"

Two of his classmates wince. Akaashi hears Honda give a cry, followed by the thud of his lunch falling on the floor. Akaashi doesn't even look over, either at Honda's spilt food (the second time this week) or who is quite obviously at the door. He mumbles his thank you, and begins to eat. One, two, three bites is all he gets in before there's the loud screech of Honda's chair against the classroom floor.

Bokuto can't do _anything_ quietly.

The captain slams his hands down on the desk, and to that Akaashi looks up. Bokuto's eyes are bright with energy, his hair spiked extra sharp, and his fingers are drumming the beat of Rihanna's 'Umbrella' into the desk.

"Akaashi, you didn't look up at me today! Didn't you hear me?" Bokuto chides. He pulls out his own lunch (three stacked bento boxes) from the bag slung over his shoulder, pushing Akaashi back enough so they can share the space. In the background, Akaashi can see Honda looking forlornly at his chair that he can no longer sit in.

"That's because you're the only one in the school who would interrupt lunch like this, Bokuto," Akaashi replies. He takes another bite as Bokuto opens his first lunchbox.

Bokuto puts on his best 'fake upset' face and stuffs a huge piece of meat into his mouth. "You wound me!" he says, chewing as he speaks. He covers his mouth, but it's still pretty gross. "And you're in class right now! Show some respect to your elders!!"

Akaashi holds back on mentioning that Bokuto is currently shoving what can only be an entire dead animal into his mouth as he speaks. He clears his throat. "Sorry, Captain-senpai," he says, laying on enough sarcasm that even he thinks he may be overdoing it. "I didn't realize I was being so _rude_ when you burst into my classroom, stole a chair, and sat down at my desk. Uninvited."

"Well, we all have our flaws," Bokuto says, wiping sauce away from the grin spreading across his face. Akaashi kicks him under the table. Bokuto yelps, rubbing his shin, and pouting.

Akaashi takes the moment of silence to eat a few more bites of food before Bokuto begins speaking again.

"Anyway, the reason I'm here is to see if you're free after school!"

"I'm not, and neither are you. We have practice, "Akaashi replies. Bokuto chokes on the rice he's eating, and Akaashi feels his face tighten into a deadpan. "Did you really forget? Are you kidding me? All you _do_ is practice."

Around coughing, Bokuto tries to put on an innocent expression, which ends up making him look like he's about to cry. "We don't usually have it today!"

"We've been having practice on Tuesday for _two months_. You just forgot what day it was." He fixes Bokuto with a dark look, but Bokuto waves his hand in the air to try and dismiss him. Or because he's still coughing. Akaashi swallows a groan with his next bite of food, but doesn't let up glaring. The captain pulls out his second lunchbox, shovels half the rice into his mouth, and slams it on the desk with a satisfied burp.

"You're free tomorrow though, right? Or did you schedule a practice behind my back like you did today?"

"I hadn't, but now that you mention it, Captain-senpai, I'll ask coach to schedule us in," Akaashi says, rolling a cherry tomato around his lunchbox with his chopsticks. Bokuto's horrified expression (the same as when he sees his marks after math) is enough to make Akaashi give a small half smile as he rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm free tomorrow."

"Good!" Bokuto grins again, leaning forward on steepled hands. He raises an eyebrow. "I'll meet you by the gates after school gets out. I have somewhere to take you."

"Where?" Akaashi asks around a bite of food.

"It's a surprise!"

Bokuto's last surprise trip had been to buy a carton of eggs, because Akaashi didn't look like he was getting enough protein. The one before that had been to a live raccoon that was trapped in a tree near his house. The one before _that_ was just his locker with a new cut out of a barn owl pasted inside.

Akaashi opens his mouth to say no as Bokuto leans in and waggles in the most ridiculous fashion. Akaashi frowns. Bokuto leans in closer, way too close, and Akaashi pulls back before the older boy slams their foreheads together and gives one of them a concussion (and not because he's nervous about being that close). He glances out the window.

"I'll come," he says. Bokuto lets out a woop and jumps into the air, Honda's chair crashing to the floor behind him, followed shortly by the rest of his lunch. As Bokuto drops to the ground to clean before the teacher arrives, Akaashi closes his eyes and wonders what he just got himself into.

-

Bokuto is a _little_ surprised that Akaashi's actually waiting for him at the gates the next day. After his last couple surprises (which were really good, but Akaashi kept his 'I am never speaking to you again' face on the entire duration of) didn't go so well, he half expected Akaashi to back out of it. When he reaches his friend, he slings an arm around his shoulders and grins.

"All ready for our trip today, Akaashi?"

Akaashi looks disgruntled and shrugs himself out of the one armed hug. He fixes his scarf and stares out in the distance. "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Not yet!" Bokuto replies. "C'mon, we have to catch the train."

Akaashi quirks an eyebrow up, finishes adjusting his scarf, and stuffs mittened hands into his pockets. Bokuto thinks about how cute and practiced the gesture is, and how fall is such a great season, and how Akaashi needs another scarf since he's been wearing the same one for two weeks straight.

Bokuto thinks about Akaashi a lot, lately.

They spend the walk talking about practice, what areas the first years can improve on, the recommendations that the coach had given them yesterday. Bokuto complains about the amount of homework he'll have at the end of the week, and Akaashi talks a bit about the latest book he's reading.

The trip passes quickly, and Bokuto can feel his excitement starting to bubble out as they get on the train. He interrupts himself speaking to stare out the window, or fidget with his jacket, or grin over his shoulder (and Akaashi asks what _exactly_ he's hiding). Bokuto dares not think the exact words. Akaashi can read his face from a mile away, so he tries to contain himself with his ever-increasing volume and hand gestures.

When it's their stop, Bokuto grabs Akaashi's arm and runs off the train, grinning as the cold air slaps their faces. It's a fifteen-minute walk from here-

"Bokuto-"

-and if they both ran-

"Bokuto!"

-they could cut the time in half, even though then they'd be early-

"Will you let go?"

Bokuto turns. They're half way up the steps of the station. Akaashi's breathing heavily, his arm held out awkwardly, Bokuto's hand still grabbing his forearm. He drops it, taking a step back until he hits the edge of the next step, and he rubs his neck.

"Ah, sorry Akaashi. I got too excited."

Akaashi nods, rubbing his arm, and looking very much like he's counting the minutes until he can go home. Bokuto starts to feel the familiar, awful churn in his chest, but he pushes it down. When they get there, Akaashi will be happy, and he's going to focus on that. Hopefully.

He gestures, and they both continue up the stairs. By the time he hits the top, the feeling is completely gone, and his grin is back. Bokuto swings his arms a bit too wide as he walks, Akaashi a bit behind him with his shoulders hunched to his ears against the wind.

The closer they get to the location, the more excited Bokuto becomes, and the harder it is to contain it. Three blocks away he laughs far too loudly at Akaashi's comment that he's hungry. Two blocks away he starts rubbing his hands together, grinning, his eyes darting back and forth until Akaashi puts a hand on his shoulder and asks if he's feeling alright. One block away, he stops so suddenly Akaashi walks right into him with a grunt. People part around them on the sidewalk, shooting dirty looks, and Bokuto turns, planting his hands firmly on Akaashi's shoulders.

"We're almost there now, Akaashi. Are you excited?"

"Hmm," Akaashi replies. "I'm happy to know it won't be another raccoon, at least."

Bokuto pouts (because who _didn't_ want to see a raccoon, exactly) but he clears his throat to continue. "I wanted to tell you to get mentally prepared, because what you're about to see... it'll blow your mind!" 

Akaashi's face remains completely neutral. He might even look more bored than he had a moment before. "I can't wait."

When Bokuto grabs Akaashi's arm, there's no resistance, and he turns back to guide him the rest of the way ('guide', in this case, means running and weaving between disgruntled businessmen and women). He can feel the giddiness in his chest, he can imagine the expression on Akaashi's face, the slightly parted lips and wide eyes, and-

He stops outside the red overhang, dropping Akaashi's arm to stand underneath the sign and point up at it in the most dramatic fashion he can, flourishing and snapping as he brings his hands above his head.

"Tadah!" he announces, beaming.

Akaashi's mouth practically falls open, and he closes it, and it drops open a second time (Bokuto feels his heart flutter in his chest and passes it off as the result of running the last block, and nothing to do with how disbelief makes Akaashi's face even more beautiful). He watches Akaashi's eyes, seeing him take in the view into the building from the window, the bright red patterned overhang, the door knocker, the title.

"A-an owl café," Akaashi finally stutters. His blinks are slow and deliberate, as if he can't take it all in still. "You found an owl café."

Bokuto takes a step to the side and opens the door, giving a slight bow as he holds it open. "Shall we, Akaashi?"

Akaashi gives his arm a light shove when he walks in, open wonder on his face still. Bokuto follows right at his heels, the grin he felt before now a permanent fixture on his face.

"Just wait 'til you see the owls, Akaashi! You won't believe it!"

-

He doesn't believe it.

Akaashi has no idea how long Bokuto's known about this place, or how long he planned to take him there, but he does know it's _not_ what he expected, and it's perfect. He gets lead in by the staff in a daze, not sure when Bokuto even arranged for them to come, when he paid the reservation, how they got there on time, or what on Earth he's doing here.

It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key. As in, buried deep in the corners of his mind, where no one would find out he's studied their flight patterns and habitats since he was eight, or that he kept a pair of binoculars beside his bed still, just in case. He treated them the same as every other animal: with a distant fondness one would expect.

How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know, and wasn't sure he ever would. He also didn't care, because right in front of him were more owls he'd ever seen in one place before in his entire life.

Some sat perched beside the store workers, great grey owls and elf owls and everything in between on long wooden dowels preening or sitting or napping. Others still were on the arms of groups of guests, who grinned as workers snap photos on each of their phones. His eyes took in the thick gloves to protect against the larger talons and the small thumb covers for the tiny owls. Akaashi stares for so long he feels his eyes begin to dry out, but even then he doesn't want to blink.

He wants to hold an owl.

Bokuto's at his side, his elbow nudging Akaashi's until he drags his attention away from a barn owl shifting from foot to foot. Bokuto's amber eyes are bright, his grin glued into place, and his body buzzing with barely contained energy and excitement. He looks about as happy as Akaashi feels, and he rolls on his heels in place. His energy is cute, and his smile is-

Oh, no. He is _not_ thinking that right now.

Instead, he stuffs down the feeling, takes off his mittens, and focuses back on the perch. "I want to hold one."

Bokuto spreads his arms wider than his grin. "Take your pick, Akaashi! You can have any one you want!"

And he does.

The staff helps him handle an elf owl first, and Bokuto stands by with his phone (and Akaashi's, after slipping his hand into Akaashi's coat pocket and pulling it out) to take pictures. He wonders at it for a while, taking in the small shift in colours across its back, the wide, intelligent eyes, the small talons and beak. He's fascinated by the way it moves, or hops, and the interest it takes in the world. The way it cocks its head when Akaashi and Bokuto say anything. The low, quiet hoot it makes, just once. Akaashi lets it climb off his hand and onto his shoulder, where it plays with a piece of his hair. He stifles a laugh, but not the smile.

He holds a snowy owl next, surprised by how light it is despite the difference in size. It holds itself regally, its eyes bored and intelligent. He doesn't let it walk on him, but he does pet it a few times more, looking at the way it shifts its face and shuffles on the thick glove perch.

Akaashi and Bokuto crack Harry Potter joke after Harry Potter joke, including Bokuto drawing glasses and a lightning scar on his picture on Snapchat for Kuroo and Kenma, until they have to put the owl down and sit at a table as they wheeze with laughter. Bokuto shifts his chair close and pulls out the phones, flipping through the pictures.

Akaashi's smiling in all of them.

"Delete these," he says. Bokuto laughs, setting one as his background, and giving Akaashi's hair a tug. Akaashi lunges for both phones but Bokuto holds them just out of reach.

"What kind of owl do you want next?" he asks. He drums his fingers on the two phones and his eyes sparkle, taking in the surroundings. Akaashi glances at him, then over his shoulder, then back at Bokuto.

"I have another idea, first," Akaashi says slowly. Bokuto looks confused, but Akaashi holds out his hands for the phones. "I won't delete them if you do it."

-

Bokuto holds the great horned owl as close as he can to his face and puts on his most Akaashi-deadpan serious look. "Okay," he says. "Take the photo."

Akaashi takes the photo, and then turns the phone around to show him. Bokuto shifts, hearing a small hoot from the owl, but they lean over together to examine. In the picture, he and the owl both look seriously out into the distance just above the frame, their matching tuffed hair on the exact same level, their amber eyes almost identical in hue. The framing is noble, majestic. He looks like a king, if the background of that king's throne room happened to be an owl café.

"You're right, Akaashi," Bokuto's voice is loud, awed, and pleased. His hand hesitates inches away from his phone screen, afraid to touch his own noble visage. "This is, quite possibly, the best picture in existence, and as you suggested I will definitely use it as my new headshot for college scouts."

"I never said any of that," Akaashi states flatly. Bokuto shakes his head as the owl shakes its, matching the movements perfectly, and Akaashi groans low in his throat. Despite that, even as Bokuto flags down a staff member, Akaashi's faint smile is back. The way he smoothes the back feathers of the birds, the soft expression on his face watching them shuffle on their perches, the way he totally cooed at one and played it off like a cough... this is the best idea Bokuto's ever had.

They take a picture together - Akaashi holding a moon faced barn owl that they both jokingly call Nyroc and Coryn under their breath until they're sure someone's going to hear. (Bokuto refrains from commenting on the fact Akaashi has read the books too, even though he hadn't known before that moment). As Akaashi turns to probably spend the remaining ten minutes with as many owls as he can subtly ask to handle, Bokuto returns the great horned owl to the staff. He silently wishes Sir Tuff Head the Brave a happy life with lots of dead mice.

There's one more thing he needs to do here.

He slips around a group of girls from another highschool to the back of the café, where the small store is situated. He buys a small towel (dark olive green, like Akaashi's eyes, not that he knows their exact shade or anything) and shuffles his way back to his friend, hiding the item in his coat. Akaashi's curly hair is a bit messier than usual, his face a bit more open, his scarf askew on his neck. Bokuto watches his eyes, face, profile, his little nod and thank you to the staff as he hands back a saw-whet owl, the little fidgety tug at his jacket sleeves as he tries to compose himself.

When Akaashi catches his eye and nods to the door, his face has returned back to its usual closed and deadpan expression that Bokuto enjoys just as much. Together, they duck back into the street, holding the door open for another group arriving.

The cool air is a sudden hit that makes Bokuto shiver. The streetlights flicker, the sun having set just enough to make the sky purple and grey. Akaashi taps his shoulder, bringing his hands up to fix his scarf, and he looks down the road.

"Let's get something to eat before we head back," he says. "I'm still hungry."

Bokuto lets out a wooping laugh, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "When are you not, Akaashi?"

"When are _you_ not, Bokuto? You had three lunches again today."

"It's _one_ lunch that's too big to fit in one box!"

Talking to Akaashi is easy, and on the walk to find somewhere to eat, Akaashi never once shrugs off Bokuto's arm or complains about it. The gift in his jacket pocket feels like a weight against him, pressing against his chest. Bokuto blames it for how tight his heart feels and how light his mind and body have become.

-

Despite living the other direction, Bokuto insists on walking Akaashi home once they get off the train again. He claims that it's his job 'as your captain and your senior, Akaashi!'. He'd protested, of course, but Bokuto knows where he lives and probably would have followed him regardless (and Akaashi is used to the company, and doesn't really mind). Akaashi finds himself walking in the empty streets, up the familiar hill a block from his home, with a chattering Bokuto at his elbow.

It's a steady stream of recap on the show Bokuto's been watching, with the occasional interjection of an 'Akaashi are you listening?' to be certain that somehow, on the otherwise empty and quiet walk, Akaashi isn't listening to someone else's rant. And Akaashi is listening, if a bit distracted, and he makes comments where he can. His mind is filled with the feeling of feathers under his fingers, which he flexes in his pockets, and the soft hoots and clicks of the café.

He tries to distract himself from it. His notes his face is sore from smiling too much. He focuses on how he had to wash his hands for five solid minutes before he ate. Bokuto's shitty grin had lasted the entire meal together, and he hadn't let Akaashi pay. But even these things just make him shift his fingers in the same familiar pattern. He hides his face deeper in his scarf and drags his feet ever so slightly, so that Bokuto slows down to match his pace, and it takes an extra four minutes to get home.

He treasures those four minutes of Bokuto brushing his arm and speaking loudly into his ear as much as the café.

As always, though, the gate to his house appears just a little too soon. Akaashi turns to say his goodbyes, when he notices that Bokuto's rant has trailed off, and the older boy is shifting from foot to foot. His arm is rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes focused on the ground.

Something's wrong.

"Bokuto, are you alright?" Akaashi asks. He takes a small half step forward, cocking his head to the side. "Do you need anything?"

Akaashi runs through quite a few scenarios. Bokuto's hungry (unlikely, he ate three burgers). He could be feeling low (the pressure of his homework, or even just saying goodbyes, often left Bokuto feeling worse if they weren't delivered properly). He could-

"I had a good time today," Bokuto says. He doesn't _sound_ low, but Akaashi isn't ready to dismiss it yet.

"I did too, Bokuto," he replies. He shifts his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders. "Thank you for taking me, though I wish you'd let me pay for something."

Bokuto gives a half smirk, half smile, crossing his arms on his chest. "Could you afford to feed me, Akaashi?"

"I can afford to feed myself, and it's nearly the same."

Bokuto gives a short, barky laugh, but there's still something in the way he's leaning and the way his eyes dart that tells Akaashi something's up. It's almost nervousness, he thinks, but he can't imagine the cause. He stands there, unsure what to do or say to clear the air. His face is cold and his feet ache. But he waits.

Bokuto speaks again. "Can... can I ask you something, Akaashi?"

"Certainly."

"Can you close your eyes for a minute?"

That makes Akaashi raise an eyebrow. Bokuto's only gotten more fidgety since he started talking. Akaashi thinks of a thousand things that could come next (and he thinks of the pranks Bokuto occasionally plays, and then the face he made showing off the café, and the latter sticks out much more in his mind).

Akaashi closes his eyes.

"Put out your hands?"

Akaashi lowers his shoulders and pulls out his hands, feeling the warmth start to dissipate from his slightly too-thin mittens. If Bokuto hands him another carton of eggs, he's going to shove them right back at him and leave.

Whatever falls into his hands is surprisingly light, and definitely not eggs. Without being told to do so, Akaashi opens his eyes.

Even under the dim streetlights, Akaashi can tell that the owl patterned towel is green (dark olive green, like Akaashi's eyes, and he doesn't know if that's intentional or accidental, but his heart flutters either way), that Bokuto's hands are being wrung together, and that, somehow, the air has gotten even thicker than it was moments before. He swallows.

Usually, whenever Bokuto gets him something, he protests, huffs, or makes a sarcastic remark. And he still considers his options: telling Bokuto off for spending _more_ money on him, pulling out his wallet and handing whatever he has in there over for it, making a quip about if Bokuto thinks he doesn't wash his hands enough. Yet each one dies in his throat under the occasional glances from Bokuto, and before he really realizes, Akaashi's pulling off his mittens to hold it in his bare hands.

The air bites his fingertips, but the towel itself is warm and soft, and he rubs his thumb on it a few times. It's that warmth, he's sure, that crawls up into his face and makes his cheeks begin to burn. He refuses to think otherwise. He refuses to let go of the towel. Bokuto's face has shifted from what Akaashi now knows must have been nerves to one of curiosity, confusion, and a bit of concern.

He realizes he should _probably_ say something.

He holds up the towel in his hands, trying his best to keep his nose and mouth tucked into his scarf where he feels stifled and hot, but at least he can't be seen smiling again (which _hurts_ ) and Bokuto won't see his cheeks. "This is much better than eggs, Bokuto."

Bokuto's laugh is one Akaashi has never heard before, and sounds a bit like he's just saying the words 'ha ha ha' very quickly and loudly. Or, rather, sounds exactly like that. "I thought so too," he admits. His hand runs through his hair and his feet shift on the ground.

"...Thank you, Bokuto. For everything. Today."

"You're welcome, Akaashi."

Akaashi can't figure out how to look up from the towel, and from the way that Bokuto's shuffling in front of him, it seems he's probably taken as great of an interest in the telephone poles overhead. The silence stretches out, broken only by an occasional gust of wind or a distant car driving along. Akaashi thinks he should say something else, but he hovers by his gate and thinks about whether or not the owls on here are the same ones they have in the café, and whether he could ask to go again next month.

It's Bokuto who finally breaks the silence with an exaggerated yawn. "I should get heading home. Someone scheduled practice tomorrow, after all!"

"Yes, you did," says Akaashi. "And you better not be napping through it."

He looks up in time to catch Bokuto make an exaggerated wounded face, clutching his heart and staggering as if he'd been stabbed. But it's over soon, too soon, and Bokuto's back is straight and his feet are turning and he gives a wave.

"See ya, Akaashi!"

"Goodnight, Bokuto."

He wanders out down the street at his usual pace, and for some reason the sight of it makes Akaashi's guts twist. Something feels off still, and he doesn't like it. With each step Bokuto takes he feels it even more strongly, coming up from that twist in his guts into his chest with a slow crawl. Akaashi tries to reason it out, tries to force the words into order in head about what he's feeling. He opens his mouth for a deep breath.

"BOKUTO!"

The feeling is up and out of his mouth before he can stop it, and from the distance he's at, Bokuto half turns over his shoulder, the streetlights just barely catching the confusion on his face. And Akaashi hadn't meant to call out, he hasn't even thought about what he's going to say next. But the twisting doesn't stop, so he opens his mouth again anyway.

"Next time..." Akaashi hesitates, hoping that Bokuto's far enough away he won't be able to tell that Akaashi's face is as red as it feels, or hear just how much his voice shakes. He swallows, but his mouth is dry and he gets no relief. "Next time you take me out on a date, make it more like this one, okay?"

Bokuto's shadowy figure stands stock still in the space between the two lights at the crest of the hill. Akaashi's breathing hard, and he doesn't know why, when it seems Bokuto isn't breathing at all. His lungs are burning as much as his face, and oh god, oh god what had he just said? Why hadn't he thought this through better? Was it too late to book it in his house?

"Deal!" Bokuto's voice is so loud and carries so well that Akaashi is sure one of his neighbours will stick their head out to complain. He glances, anxiously, up and down the street. But no one else appears, and instead, Akaashi is able to see Bokuto's giant toothy grin and big wave without interruption. He holds the towel tightly, his fingers going numb, until the last tuft of silver hair can no longer be seen over the hilltop. 

Then he books it into his house.


End file.
